


Slowly, I'll Let You In

by cheese



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Armpit Kink, Bondage, Breathplay, D/s, M/M, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheese/pseuds/cheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tied up and blindfolded, the anticipation is killing Arthur, making him curl his toes around the bedspread to not kick up or thrash. What he doesn’t expect (though he should, because Percival is very observant) is for Percival to nose into his armpit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slowly, I'll Let You In

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for summer pornathon 2013, challenge 1: kink grab bag

The first time Arthur let Percival tie him to the bed, he hadn’t known what to expect. Especially considering how very briefly they’d been trying the whole Dom-sub thing, and how much it had taken for them to get even that far. That night, Arthur had been face-up, tied only by his hands on either corner of the bed. Percival had kept the lights on and smiled at Arthur reassuringly before stroking, kissing, licking, nibbling and worshipping nearly every inch of Arthur’s body, then fucking him slowly.

Arthur can remember the orgasm so clearly, in spite of the way he’d floated through it, clinging to Percival with only kisses, his arms loose and limp in the restraints, his legs split wide open on either side of Percival. He watches Percival kiss his wrists before they’re both fastened into the cuffs. Arthur tenses only for a moment before Percival is hovering above him, kissing him gently until Arthur feels himself getting lost in Percival’s lips and tongue, the warmth of his body, and not inside his own head. 

When Percival pulls away, Arthur whines and lifts his head after him, earning a chuckle and an eyeroll, but also another quick kiss. Arthur’s a little bit ashamed of his neediness, but also in awe of Percival, and of how well he can read Arthur, how he takes care of him, even if Arthur thinks it should be the other way. 

Percival comes back into Arthur’s line of sight with the blindfold, leaning over him again. 

“Lift your head.” 

Arthur does, and Percival puts the blindfold on, enveloping Arthur’s world in darkness. He can feel his breath catch for a second as Percival moves off him again, far too quietly, and Arthur strains to hear him, moving his head back and forth. 

“Shhh, still here.” Percival’s voice comes from the other side of the bed, and Arthur feels lips on his fingers, then his knuckles. 

He shudders at every kiss along his arm, and fluctuates between turned on and embarrassed and guilty – because he loves this so much, because he knows Percival is aware of just how much he loves it, and because he should be the one taking care of Percival. The nip on his shoulder takes him by surprise. Arthur turns his head toward him, wanting to get closer. 

Arthur expects Percival to gag him or slap his face away, and the anticipation is killing him, making him curl his toes around the bedspread to not kick up or thrash. What he doesn’t expect (though he should, because Percival is very observant) is for Percival to nose into his armpit. 

“Fuck,” is out of Arthur’s mouth before he can stop himself, his whole body trembling. He’s stuck between wanting to move closer and move away, embarrassment and arousal waging a war inside him. He stays still instead, waiting for Percival, like he’s supposed to. 

“Good,” Percival says, his breath warm against Arthur’s shaved armpit, on the verge of ticklish, but not quite. Arthur is glad for the blindfold then, not having to watch Percival put himself there, where Arthur is probably sweaty and disgusting, mix of exertion and nerves. 

Arthur’s clenching his muscles in anticipation, feeling Percival’s even breaths, waiting. It takes him a long time, far too long, he knows, to realize that if he doesn’t relax, Percival won’t do anything. So he lets the tension drain away from his body again, focusing on his breaths in the silence of the room. He shudders uncontrollably when Percival wastes no time and buries his face in Arthur’s armpit completely just seconds later. 

Arthur moans out, digs his fingers into his palms, but stays still otherwise, would have even without Percival’s hands holding him at his throat and hip. Percival continues only nosing; breathing heavy into the hollow of the armpit and Arthur can feel himself growing harder and harder, arousal a clear winner of the war. He thinks the blindfold adds to it, too, makes him work himself up more and more as he imagines the things that are happening right next to his face. 

His breathing is laboured, coming in shorter and shorter when Percival finally begins licking and kissing at Arthur’s pit. Arthur moans out, practically a sob and it takes very, very little before he’s pushing his neck up into Percival’s hand, silently begging for more. 

Percival squeezes his neck on an exhale and licks him harder than before, sloppier, too; his entire face moving inside Arthur’s armpit. And that’s it. Gasping, breathless, Arthur comes untouched, toes digging into the bedspread, heart beating fast, any trace of shame or doubt spilling from him completely.


End file.
